Good afternoon from rainy Vermont. Quill Point has sucked me in, and I’m giddy with the writing of it. Listen:
“For the far side of the garden, Eva chose a silver maple–she loved how its leaves shone like silver quarters in the fall. But when she researched the extent of its root system, she rejected it and instead selected two flowering crabs. The trees would arrive that morning. She stretched herself full out on the garden soil, ignoring the dew as it seeped into her clothing. She looked up to the blue expanse above her. “Malus x zumi. Golden Hornet,” she whispered. “Malus pink glow.”
If I didn’t have my 14 point list of things to do, I’d keep going with this garden scene, because book blood is coursing through me and there’s no other way to respond. On the floor at my writing table, I’ve stacked Hope Jahren’s Lab Girl, Stern’s Introductory Plant Biology, Peterson Field Guides’ Eastern Trees, and DK’s Encyclopedia of Plants and Flowers. What I had around the house. As Quill Point’s plot unfolds, my inner botanist is emerging, combining my love of romance languages, color, garden dirt, and growing things.
But today we’ve got school supplies to buy, there’s the new phone to set up (our old one died on us). Scout needs a bath. Laundry, of course. A trip to the bank. Those darn cassettes to hoe out. At the very bottom of my list, in my neatest printing, I’ve written BOOK.
And BOOK you shall get. Sometime next year. I promise. Are there times when the last thing on your list is the first thing you want to do?
Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home.